


Double-edged Sword

by Penndragon27



Series: Penn's Midnight Fics [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Episode: s05e11 The Drawing of the Dark, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Swordplay, and back to enemies again, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penndragon27/pseuds/Penndragon27
Summary: Mordred confronts Merlin, but things go a little differently





	Double-edged Sword

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you're on chatzy at 2am instead of sleeping or being productive or... anything. Lol, enjoy.

Mordred walked down the corridor, mind racing as he tried to figure out what to do about Kara. She was stubborn and impulsive, but he cared for her and couldn’t let her die. Couldn’t let Arthur kill her.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he nearly ran right into Merlin, tall, dark, and frowning. Mordred spent so long wanting Merlin to look at him with respect or love or… something, but his gaze was always hard.

“What are you going to do?”

Merlin’s voice was smooth and deep, so calm while Mordred was coming apart at the seams.

“What do you care?”

“I just want to make sure you aren’t going to do anything stupid,” Merlin stepped forward, leading them back until they were hidden in an alcove. Mordred tried not to pout, not wanting to give Merlin another reason to treat him like a petulant child.

“Look, I know you didn’t betray me. Don’t do so now.”

“It’s not my betrayal I’m worried about.”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed and Mordred couldn’t help but think of all the nights he’d spent thinking of that intense gaze as he brought himself to pleasure. Cold a look as it was, Mordred’s insides suddenly felt warm.

Trying to overcome the feeling of utter helplessness taking over, Mordred went for his sword only to find it missing. When he looked up, it was to see the blade pointed at his throat.

His anger was pale in comparison to the reluctant excitement he felt at seeing Merlin, the saviour of the druids, the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the earth, standing in front of him with a hardened expression and his hand raised, channeling magic into the weapon that could kill Mordred with a thought.

“Are you finally going to kill me, Emrys? After so many failed attempts?”

He saw the flicker in Merlin’s eyes, a hint of guilt. His gaze fell to watch that smooth, pale throat swallow before there was a cool press of metal at his chin, lifting his head so their eyes could meet once more. He licked his lips, feeling his trousers tighten.

Something must have shown on his face because Merlin faltered for a moment.

“Are you-”

Mordred took his bottom lip between his teeth, watching Merlin look down, his face blooming with pink when he saw the bulge Mordred was sporting.

“Emrys,” Mordred’s throat was dry. The sword moved back a couple inches in the warlock’s shock and Mordred took the opportunity to sink to his knees before him.

“Please,” he whispered.

Merlin looked down at him; eyes dark with what Mordred hoped was lust, or at least a morbid curiosity. Mordred lifted his hands to reach for Merlin’s trousers, but the blade was returned to his throat. It only served to make Mordred harder.

He watched Merlin debate what to do with him, but then there were footsteps heading towards them. He gave Merlin a pleading look and the warlock’s eyes flashed gold, the steps stopping.

Curious, Mordred glanced to the side where a spider had frozen in its ascent on the wall. Merlin had stopped time, without a word. Gods, he wanted him so badly.

He returned his gaze to Merlin’s, hoping he’d reached a decision and that it involved less clothing. His question was answered when his chainmail suddenly vanished, leaving him in just shirt and annoyingly tight trousers.

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold again and the sword slowly lowered, the point tracing down Mordred’s neck and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

When it reached the collar of his shirt it didn’t stop. Instead there was the velvety sound of clothing ripping as the sword sliced through his shirt, leaving him bare-chested and panting.

The sword did stop at his waist band though, running along the edge teasingly until a dark spot appeared on his pants were his cock was leaking heavily.

Mordred tried to control his breathing, tried to focus on the cool air on his sweaty skin and the hard metal tracing his hips and the fact that he was so close to orgasm without Merlin laying a hand on him. But he wanted a hand on him.

_ Touch me, Emrys. _

Merlin raised his eyebrows innocently, as though he weren’t reducing Mordred to a needy puddle at his feet.

_ Should I? _

Mordred let out a sob as the sword rose up to trace a hardened nipple, the cold metal on hot skin making every inch of him vibrate with want.

_ Please, Emrys, I need it. _

Merlin frowned as though he was thinking it through, but Mordred knew his decision was probably made already. And it seemed that it was a positive decision because Merlin’s hand rested on his cheek, warm and dry. Mordred leaned into it.

_ What do you want, Mordred? _

_ You. _

He heard Merlin’s sharp intake of breath and then he was pulled to his feet so he could be pushed against the wall. He thought (hoped) Merlin would kiss him, but instead that mouth latched onto his chest, working on sucking a bruise there as the sword hovered threateningly next to them.

Mordred keened at having the mouth of the great Emrys on him, marking him. He lifted his hands to touch only for them to be restrained against the wall. More magic.

Merlin moved down his chest until he could take a nipple into his mouth. He sucked on it, hot and wet and as if that wasn’t fucking amazing enough, the sword returned to the other one, hard and cold in a beautiful contrast that set his eyes rolling and his toes curling.

“I’m not going to last,” he whined, not even bothering with telepathy. Merlin’s hands dug into his sides, holding him still as he was assaulted with pleasure.

The sword left his nipple, scraping against his skin just light enough not to draw blood and the fact that the slightest dip in control would leave him injured made his breath thin and his brain fizzle out. How could he place so much trust in a man who has wished him nothing but harm? After all that had happened, why was he so certain that Merlin wouldn’t kill him? Couldn’t kill him?

His eyes fell shut, his hands straining against their restraints as he writhed against the wall, his orgasm getting closer with every sharp flick of Merlin’s tongue, every gentle scratch of the sword.

And then one of Merlin’s hands moved, reaching into his trousers to wrap long fingers around Mordred’s aching cock. He barely had a moment to moan at experiencing the feeling he’d dreamt of for ages before he was coming, chest flushing and hips stuttering as he filled his smallclothes with his release.

As he came he jerked forward before Merlin could stop him, leading to a sting in his side as the sword nicked him. Mind still hazy with pleasure, it just made him let out a whimper. Merlin caught the blood with Mordred’s tattered shirt, pressing slightly to stem the flow.

“Are you okay?”

Mordred gave a hysterical laugh. “Now you want to know.”

“Mordred-”

He pushed Merlin back and the sword fell to the ground with a clatter as the spell ended. Mordred whispered his own spell to repair his shirt and regain some sense of modesty. He had to pull on the hem to cover the dark patch on his trousers, though. He looked up to see Merlin watching him carefully. He was sporting his own erection and it made Mordred’s mouth go dry.

“How long can you keep time frozen?”

Merlin shrugged. “As long as I need to, I suppose.”

Mordred smiled and, free from the threat of a sword to the throat, finally reached out and grabbed Merlin through his breeches.

“I don’t like owing favours.”

 


End file.
